Controlling the Dice
by TheQuietAwakening
Summary: Escaping the mindless games played by simple minded Hogwarts students, Tom trudged through the snow. That's when he met her, the girl who would change his fate. - Written for QLFC Finals Round 1


**Wimbourne Wasps made it to the finals! Yay! Thank-you so much for checking out this round's story!**

 **Theme: Theory of Relativity**

 **Chaser 1 prompt: Back to the Future**

 **Optional prompts: (emotion) Disgust, (object) Dice, (word) Mindless**

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Footsteps in snow. The sound calmed him. It centered him. Crunch, crunch, crunch, breathe. An icy puff of white formed in front of his face with the heavy exhale. Those silly boys trapped within their meaningless games. There were things which were much more important than small pranks of humiliation the Slytherin boys were planning. Tom needed to escape. One more second with those mindless teenagers and he would have lost his own.

Breath, crunch, crunch, crunch. He moved slowly toward the forest, taking his time, enjoying every moment of the cold air hitting his heated skin. Tom liked the cold, he welcomed it. It allowed his mind to be clear, aroused, and refreshed. There was something about that dark forest that felt like home. To be surrounded by creatures of the night, within the muffled silence that the fluffy ice brought, was a beautiful thing. Tonight, he would bask in it, and be one with the evil beasts who dwelled within those trees.

That was when he saw her. The girl, wandering out from his resting place. Her hair was an untamed mess of frizzy brown curls bobbing about her head, but her face, there was something about her face that spoke to him. Tom smiled. Ah, the face of emotional distress, of loss, of… something far more powerful.

Who was she? He didn't recognize her from the school, but there were many people he didn't know now. He was focused on what he was going to do after. How he would manipulate his fate, how he would become the most powerful wizard this world had ever known. Far too focused to recognize some bushy haired girl.

She had captured his curiosity, and that was a dangerous thing.

Calm, controlled, he made purposeful strides toward her.

"I'm not supposed to be here," she mumbled to herself. Tom wondered if she had gone mad wandering the forest. "I need to get back. Not supposed to be here." She murmured something about a weasel, an obsession, Death Eaters? That was an interesting one. Death Eaters. Tom wondered what those might be. Fascinating.

Her eyes met his. She seemed startled at first but held his gaze. In that moment he knew, this girl was not mad.

"I'm Tom," he said evenly.

He was not expecting recognition in her eyes, fear, disgust. It was a curious thing, but it made him angry. How dare she see him and be disgusted! Tom didn't like to be angry. When he got angry, he could lose control, and he needed his control. So, he took a breath, clenched his fists, and willed himself to see this through. He wanted to know who she was and more importantly, what a Death Eater was. Nothing was going to keep him from that knowledge.

"What have you been up to in the forest on a night like this?" he asked her coolly.

She took a step back.

"Tell me," he commanded, getting a bit impatient. He came out here to settle his mind not play games with some useless girl.

The mystery girl straightened, tensed, and a firm expression of determination washed over her features.

"No," she said as she resumed walking up toward the school, moving around him.

A wave of heat flared up inside him. People didn't say 'no' to him. They didn't get away when he wanted something. Tom reached out, grabbed her arm and yanked her close.

In that moment, something felt right, like she was the key to something very important, but so wrong at the same time. Maybe, she didn't belong. Now, more than ever, he needed to know.

"Don't test me," he whispered in her ear.

"Let. Me. Go," she hissed defiantly.

"Do I know you?" Tom asked.

How intriguing. Under his grip, he felt her muscles relax, as though she were forcing them to, as though she was not supposed to know what he was capable of.

"No, of course not," she replied.

Tom loosened his grip just a bit to see what she would do. She didn't pull herself free, she didn't try to run. Her deep, brown eyes held his, mesmerized.

"You need help, do you not?" he guessed, remembering her delightfully distressed expression when he had first seen her. He took her silence as a 'yes'. "No one can help you better than I can," he promised. "And I think you know that." She swallowed. "What's your name?"

She took a deep breath, pupils dancing across her eyes, considering the rather simple question.

"Hermione," she pronounced the name with confidence. Fake, confidence, but he could admire it nonetheless, being at his mercy.

Hermione. Beautiful name, quite a mouthful though.

"Does 'Hermione' have a last name?"

"Does 'Tom'?" she countered.

He snarled. Tom hated his last name, he hated that it tied him to the muggle that provided him with life. He would rather be anything but a 'Riddle'.

Gently, Tom tugged on Hermione's arm, leading her back into the forest. Soon, he would get the answers to his questions. Soon, she would give him the knowledge he desired.

Then, he saw it. Smoking metal, bent and broken between the trees, and he dragged her close, keeping a firmer grip on her now, as she seemed to doubt not escaping before.

His stomach dropped. She had something to do with this. Disgust swelled within him, coating his insides with a sticky green slime. A car, a muggle vehicle, though one he had never seen before. Tom looked with utter revulsion at the crude transportation device those mindless muggles had created. It was unsophisticated and useless. His eyes slowly moved from the car to the girl.

No more pleasantries. In one fluid motion, he drew his wand from his robes and pressed it against the skin on her neck.

"Where did it come from!" he demanded to know. "Where did you come from!"

Once again, this Hermione astounded him. With that tight jaw of rebellion, she stared him down.

"If you're this disgusted by a simple car, then you really are too far gone, Tom."

Damn, this witch enraged him. She had a valid point and it made him furious. How did she know what to say to drive him into anger? What did she mean by 'he might be too far gone'? Could she possibly know the fantasies he held of power, of inflicting pain, of making others fear him? Could she know what he was planning to do?

Calm. He took a deep breath, focusing on the sting of the icy air filling his lungs. Calm. Control.

"You know me. How?" he asked, amusement filling the place where anger had been only a moment ago. She had that sparkle of determined defiance. It was rather fitting on her, if only it wasn't defiance of him.

Silence.

He was going to have to find out for himself. With a quick flick of his wand, Hermione was immobilized, allowing Tom to move around freely without worrying about losing his new pet. Nearing the vehicle, he glanced around the car's exterior. It was rather destroyed, which made it a bit less repulsing. Something in the smashed front window caught his eye. A pair of large dice hung limply from a string.

Mesmerized by the greyish white cubes, he reached through the broken glass and retrieved them. Oh, they reminded him of the orphanage, of the one thought that gave him the strength to make it through those horrid years. The other kids were always so entertained by tossing them around. But Tom, he was smarter than those senseless children. He knew he was different, special. While their lives were governed by the rolling of dice, their fate decided by random chance, he could control the dice. He could tell those cubes on which side they were to land, and just so, he would control his fate. He would take his deserved place where he would one day hold the fate of the entire world in his hands.

His eyes darted from the dice to the strange interior of the car. There were lights and numbers. Not any numbers. Dates. Today's date, in fact, and another in the future. 1998.

Tom knew. And glancing back at her wide eyes, he knew she was aware of that as well.

Hermione was from the future. He felt his frozen lips curve up into a sinister smile at his newly found opportunity. She was trapped in his time. The dice had rolled in his favour and now, he held them all. He finally had what he needed to hold everyone's fate in his control.

And to think, just a moment ago, he had been absolutely appalled by the thought that she had somehow arrived by muggle invention. Now, she was the key to unlocking his full potential.

"Hermione, Hermione. I could grow quite fond of you."

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 **Thanks so much to Carolare Scarletus for helping me do a last minute edit!**


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